


Done this before

by ck0pz



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Adult Content, Age Difference, Angst, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Older Man/Younger Woman, Power Imbalance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 14:30:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20602349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ck0pz/pseuds/ck0pz
Summary: Brief recollections of events leading up to an encounter with the Immortan. No epilogue.





	Done this before

She’s eleven when she asks her dad to teach her. He’s a mechanic and he says no. _ No job for ladies _, he says.

She’s fourteen when her dad finds her screwing bolts at random, playing with his tools and scattering pieces everywhere. He only sighs and cleans up but the next time she tries to get into the garage, the door’s locked and she can’t get in.

She’s sixteen when the Immortan comes to the farm, gracing the steps of the Masters’ home with his holy presence. Her dad says he’s just a man - but the pale boys she hangs out with are giddish with joy and they kneel in front of him and call him Daddy. She stares as the God stands with his legs parted and his hands on his hips. He’s fat but the mask on his face is scary and she feels a twinge of fear. Her dad’s close by and he scowls when the Immortan looks at her. She lowers her eyes as he approaches but when his shadow falls on her she can’t fight her curiosity anymore. She looks at him and he looks at her and she has to crane her neck because he’s far too tall. His eyes are gentle when he says “Kneel, child” and she does. He keeps staring at her and she looks at her dad. The Immortan follows her gaze and meets the dark look of her father.

When the day’s over and the Immortan has left the farm, a cloud of dust following behind his party, her dad takes her aside and tells her about the God._ He’s not good _ , he says - _ keep out of his way _.

She’s eighteen when her father’s partner burns alive. The pale boy was fixing a machine when everything blows up - there’s no tears. The Masters need a new mechanic. She volunteers, Her dad shoots her down with a furious look. They don’t talk about it.

Then one day her dad calls her in the garage. They haven’t talked about it but he’s been evidently talking about it with the Masters. He's sitting on a chair, staring at the screwdriver in his hands. His head is bent and his shoulders slumped in a resigned, mournful hunch. He lifts his head when he hears her enter the room. He gives her a wan smile. Her own smile is eager, she's full of hope, giddy from joy. Dare she hope? Will she be accepted here?

At the end of the day she's smiling from ear to ear and her chest is bursting from pride. Her dad pats her head with affection and that sad smile. She thanks him profusely and shuts the door behind her.

She’s twenty-two when she meets the God again. She can read the interest in his eyes the moment he enters through the door of the farm. He recognizes her; he remembers.

Her father is dead and gone, buried under meters of red sand somewhere on the Fury Road; he can't protect her now, he can't do anything to stop what's going to happen. She wishes he could be here, wishes he could be staring down the Immortan, daring him to challenge him, daring him to take away his only daughter.

He gazes at her from time to time, too often she thinks, between the stilted conversation he's having with the old Masters. They talk business and slaveboys but he looks at her when they are done and she knows she will be sold, very soon. The blue orbs sparkle with desire, leaving a trail down her neck, her breasts, her stomach. But... not yet. She's valuable, she knows, as a mechanic. She's still needed at the farm. The Masters won't just let her be taken away without a fair replacement.

The fair replacement comes sooner than she thought. A short, pale boy comes looking for her a few weeks later, introducing himself as her new apprentice. She nods. She teaches him how to fix small things: broken pipes, modest leaks that require minimum preparation. At the end of the day he's smiling from ear to ear and his chest is bursting from pride. She pats him on the shoulder and gives him a sad smile. He thanks her profusely and shuts the door behind him. She feels a void in her chest.

The Immortan visits more often now that his real interest is revealed. He's constantly at the farm's door, half of his armada parked outside the gates, showing off his power and rank. He holds Council there, sometimes, under the guise of meeting the Bullet Farmer half-way. The Masters attend sometimes, and sometimes they're just not required.

Today, when the meeting is over, the God comes looking for her. When he finds her, she's fixing a car and she's alone.

The sounds of the machines in the garage covers the wheezing of his respirator and his heavy steps. He sits. He waits. She's laying under a car, her legs poking out, just barely visible behind the steady movement of her arm. She’s covered in black oil, a smatter of dirt on her nose. She doesn't notice him until she's done with her work and she crawls out from under the car.

She stops in her tracks upon seeing his imposing figure sitting on a chair, silently watching her. She doesn't know how to greet him. She's never been one for the V8 and she won't start now. Her dad told her it's all bullshit anyway. So she watches him.

He doesn't seem to mind the silence, nor her eyes roving over him. Instead, he seems to like it. His feet are wide apart, his posture confident and powerful. His muscles are big but so is his paunch. She can see through all his lousy tricks: he's an old man and the plastic armour he wears cannot change that. His skin is still taut on his arms but he's got boils and rashes all over his chest. He's wearing a codpiece, two guns holstered in the inside of his thighs. She shivers thinking about it - about what is underneath. About the fact that he's a man, under all the powder.

He notices. His eyes get dark and she looks him in the eye. His gaze is piercing and hot and blue. She's never met anyone else with blue eyes. She takes a step back when he rises from the chair, his eyes never leaving hers. He doesn’t ask her to kneel, this time. He's careful with his moves; he doesn't want her running off. Her mind races: she doesn't want to be a Wife - she doesn’t want what is going to happen, she doesn't want it and she doesn't want to speak; her tongue is glued to her palate. It’s a slow, tension-riddled dance; he steps forward, she steps back, until her rump touches the front of the car and she knows that it's over.

He gets to her in an instant, his stride faster now that he's got her cornered, and he doesn't stop until his armoured chest is touching her breasts. Their breathing is laboured and their heads are floating, their blood full of adrenaline if only for two different reasons. She knows she won't go anywhere. She gives up. He sees it in her eyes.

She slowly reaches behind her, her hands finding leverage on the bonnet. She helps herself up and sits on it. His expression is victorious, his respirator wheezes faster.

His hands find her waist. His hips nudge her knees apart and settle between them, right against her core. He sighs, his eyes heavy with lust. She lets him touch her, lets him take charge and do whatever pleases him but she never takes her eyes away from his face.

Instead, he does. His blue eyes fall to her jaw, her neck... lower then, to her covered breasts, the curve of her hips. His hands wander under her shirt, his calloused thumbs tracing a pattern on her bare skin. He feels like sandpaper.

She shivers and he seems to snap, losing the tight control he had on himself.

He grabs her hips and pulls her to him, his crotch pressed up against her cunt, hot and demanding. She yelps, her arms give out and her elbows slam against the bonnet of the car. The Immortan doesn't wait for her; he pulls at her trousers, rips them and growls, feral now that the magic seems to be broken. His respirator wheezes madly, his eyes are half-lidded and crazed.

He fumbles with his own fastenings while one hand tears at the collar of her shirt, freeing one nipple and pinching. She opens her mouth to yell but he's faster and his hand comes up to shut her up. Her head hits the car and she bites on his meaty fingers but he doesn't relent, instead groaning in pleasure as he takes his cock out and pushes it against her labia, smearing his precum over her and teasing her clit with his bulbous head. She feels a twinge in her belly and her back arches - she only has the time to grasp at the hand on her mouth before she widens her eyes in shock at the sudden intrusion of his cock inside of her. This time she does scream but he's already thrusting in and out of her cunt, his eyes rolling back into his skull and a groan rumbling out of his chest. He keeps pistoning as she whimpers, her eyes tightly shut against the pain of his cock tearing her walls. She was dry and she wasn't ready but he doesn't care. His other hand, now free, catches hers and slams her arm back, beside her head. His eyes bore into hers as he grunts and fucks her. She can't stop staring but the pain makes her feel dizzy and light-headed and she's crying without knowing it as he comes inside her, his hips pushing in a final thrust and a groan rumbling from his chest. His head falls in the crook between her neck and her shoulders. He gives a few more half-hearted pushes and she feels his cock pumping his seed deep inside, scorching her tender walls. She thinks she doesn't want his baby.

They stay motionless for a long time, his respirator digging uncomfortably in her skin and his hot breath on her ear. His soft cock slips out of her at one point. His chest is pressed up against hers, his hips nestled between her parted legs. She thinks she likes this, in a way. The comfort of another body tightly fit against hers; she could get used to it. What she doesn't like is the sticky feeling between her legs. She thinks of her dad and his warning: _out of his way_. She sobs. The Immortan lets her chest heave a few times, then he lifts his head and touches her face with his hand, his rough thumb wiping away the hot trails of her tears, his eyes looking into hers; they're clear now, wider now that lust isn't heaving his lids down. She closes her own and doesn't move, letting the unexpected tenderness heal her pain.

When she stops weeping he stills his hand, his eyes still entirely focused on her. They're softer now. She doesn't think it will last long. He slowly takes his hand away, stroking her arm on the way down. “There”, he says, “right as rain” and the wrinkles at the side of his eyes grow slightly deeper. She realizes he’s smiling.

She lowers her eyes and he steps back, tucking himself in and readjusting his clothes and respirator. She sits up and covers her breast; she can't do anything for her ruined trousers. She steps to her father's worktable and fidgets with the bolts scattered there, waiting for her guest to say something, anything to end his visit and let her go back to her life, if only for a little longer - if only to forget, however briefly, what happened to her. The silence stretches a few moments longer, then his heavy steps tell her he's coming closer. He stops just behind her. He breathes her in, she can tell by the sounds of his mask - then he puts his hands on her waist, encircling it effortlessly. He could snap her in two if he wanted. He leans close to her ear, his raspy, deep baritone traveling down her spine with a shiver: “I'm coming back for you”, and he takes his leave. She wonders how many times he’s done this before.


End file.
